Prodigal Son
by Grainmash
Summary: They were born from lust, lies, and weakness, and as such, they ought to be wanton and treacherous by nature. This was what there was to bastards for most of the nobles and most of the bastards never break the mold. But some do. They shatter the shackles that bind them to become what they were always meant to be. This is a tale of one such noble bastard of the Kingdom of the North.
1. Prologue

Denys groaned in pain as he slowly pushed back his covers and climbed out of bed. He wobbled as he tried to stand up. Maester Landon held out his hands to help his lord but he took a step away from him and shook his head. Maester Landon resignedly lowered his hands and looked on as his lord pressed against the wall breathing hard to steady himself.

"Why not allow me to help you, my lord?" Maester Landon begged.

"You will have your wish soon enough Maester Landon I fear." Denys chuckled mirthlessly between shallow breaths.

Maester Landon said nothing his face marred with deep sorrow as he followed his lord as his lord haltingly walked towards the chair near the open window.

Denys was the current lord of the noble house of Dustin, one of the major families sworn to House Stark who were Wardens of the North and ruled as Lords of Winterfell. He was a stout old man with balding head and short neck. Illness had gripped him and he was always sore and aching and only the herbs and potions of his maester allowed him to sit and walk and do his other chores and even then he would often need help of his servants. He hated it.

He longed for an heir but the Gods had robbed him of his wife and then his young heir. Willam Dustin had followed his liege Lord Eddard Stark against King Aerys II Targaryen. Willam was one of the six companions that fought alongside Lord Eddard at the tower of joy against the remaining members of the Mad King's Kingsguard, where he was slain. Barbrey Dustin, his wife, took the words of the death of her husband hard and committed suicide soon after. Denys was now the only two Dustin in the Barrow Hall, the other was his nine year old granddaughter Bethany Dustin.

"Where is Bethany?" Denys asked as he peered down at the empty courtyard from his perch. His granddaughter was the only bright spot in his otherwise bleak life.

"She rode off to Barrowton at first light, my lord. The word in the town is that the men who followed Lord Stark against Greyjoys return back home today . . .

. . . and with them returns Harry Snow. Of course, she rode off at first light! These past months the servants would talk of nothing but how restless Bethany was!" Denys put in wistfully. "Tell me what you make of him, Maester Landon?"

"He is a fine young man, my lord. He is popular with the smallfolk and they hold him in high regard for his munificent kindness and beneficence. He is a man of great valour and courage which now the entire realm had witnessed against the Greyjoys. King Robert himself knighted him in the battlefield after the fall of Pyke."

"Ah! Yes! He is now Ser Harry Snow! Bethany was most happy to hear of it. The day the word of his knighthood reached us, she insisted that the servants cook all her favourites and then after the supper she snuck into the kitchens and stole herself a cup of wine. She was sick half the other day," Denys said with a fond smile. "It is not just she who is mad about him. He is not just popular with the smallfolk, they flock to him, they follow him as if he was their leader, as if he was their lord and that is not because of his parentage, because his father was Willam. No, they flock to him, they follow him because of his qualities. He is a true lord - a lord not by birth but by deeds. The smallfolk have accepted him. Bethany has accepted him. It is now time that I accept him. It is now time that I accept the bastard of my son."

"Are you certain my lord?" Maester Landon pressed. Denys had often hinted at this but never before openly said it.

"Very!" Denys affirmed firmly without any lingering shadow of doubt sinking into the soft cushions of his chair. "I am old and I am sick. I am not long for this world. After me without any heir to rule the Barrowlands other lords would fall on it like wolves after a prey and my beloved Bethany would be trapped amidst the lot. They would barter and trade her like a piece of meat. This would crush my beloved Bethany and I will not have it.

"Harry is our only chance at this and he is a chance I am perfectly willing to take. The Old Gods may have been harsh when they robbed me of my son and my good daughter but they have been generous when they sent me Harry. We could do worse than him, a lot worse. He will love and care for my Bethany and he will love and care for my people - that is all that I need."

"Then I will prepare a letter for our King Robert." Maester Landon bowed.

"No, not for our King Robert. Prepare a letter for our liege Lord Eddard." Denys redressed.

"But my lord only a king can legitimise a bastard!"

"Even if half the words that trickle down from the capital are true then it may be a long wait before our letter spurs any actions and I cannot bear such long wait. On the other hand, a letter from our liege lord, his beloved friend, will spur actions without any wait."

"True words, my lord."

"There's one other thing. It is now time that the future lord begins to know his new home."

"I will send out riders at once."

"See that you do. Also, alert the kitchens. Bethany or for that matter we all will want a feast. The halls, the corridors, the chambers and the entire castle could do with a little make-over. Brighten up this desolate place, will you! Prepare, prepare for the prodigal son finally returns!"

"I will begin the preparations for his home-coming at once, my lord."


	2. Down A Different Path

"My sincerest apologies for my tardiness, my lord," Harry said as he stepped into the lord's chambers.

Denys appraisingly noted that Harry only made apologies and no excuses even though he had a just one. He was beginning to see many of the qualities that made Harry so loved and so cherished.

He had been most irate when Harry had been late in his arrival and had sent men to commandeer him. They had returned empty-handed. They knew better than to interrupt the story time of old lord's granddaughter.

"No apologies are necessary. One cannot fault you for choosing young Bethany over old me, can they! Rather I should me thanking you. You have been there for her when my illness won't let me be. I am forced to spent time with my maester and old men when I would rather spent those with my granddaughter." Denys chuckled ruefully. "Sit down, sit down. There opposite me. We have much to talk."

Harry crossed the room and sat down. The lord sat heavy sweating and shivering his face ghastly pale in the yellow light of the oil lamp.

"Perhaps, you should rest my lord," Harry said uncertainly, his eyes flickering to meet those of the maester standing by the side of his lord.

"Rest! That's all I have been doing these past few weeks and all these pile up." Denys said bitterly his voice steadily rising as he gestured wildly with both hands at the clutter of rolled papers and half closed tomes on the table between them. The short burst of vehemence exhausted him, his breathing becoming shallow and rugged.

"My lord," Maester bent over fretting concernedly.

"I'm fine," Denys waved him away drawing in long breaths. He continued after his breathing had evened a little. "I am certain that you are wondering why I have called you here at such a late hour."

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Let's start by congratulating you on your knighthood."

"The feast was quite lovely. My most humble thanks, my lord."

"As you see perfectly well I'm old and I'm sick and I fear I may not be long for this world. These lands after me will need a new lord and as such I have no heir but it is not entirely true, is it? There is you. You are my grandson - a bastard - but nevertheless my grandson and it is time that I accept you as such. I have called you here to inform you that your this sojourn to Barrow Hall will be less temporary. You are here to stay. I have sent raven to arrange for you to be my legitimate heir."

"I . . . I . . . don't know . . . I . . . thank you, my lord." Harry said, his voice thick with emotions.

He had never known a family of his own in his past life and similar had seemed his fate in this life as well. His mother had been a serving woman in the inn in Barrowton who had died when he was six years old. All her life she had refused to tell him the identity of his father and did so only on her death bed.

He had been most happy to learn of the identity of his father until he had learnt that his father was a noble lord and that he was his bastard son. He had known that the bastards were treated as no more than blots on their noble lord fathers and yet he had hoped that maybe just maybe his lord father was different.

He had made his way to the Barrow Hall where he had spied his father and his lawful wife playing with their newly born daughter. He had ran away as fast as his six years old legs could carry him and as far away as his six years old self could manage. He had found work on a merchant ship and sailed away to distant lands where he had been for next eight years.

He had returned back to Barrowton when he had heard that the inn in which his mother had worked had fallen on hard times. He had purchased the inn with his savings and settled down in Barrowton where he had been these past two years.

His return had brought back some harsh memories but he had never regretted it. He had learnt of the death of his father and his wife. He had felt sad that any possibility of reconciliation with his father was now ended but nothing more than that. Then, he had met his half-sister Bethany. A couple of Dustin men-at-arms had brought her to the inn. She had learnt of his real identity and had been most insistent on meeting him.

She had been nothing like other noble borns and had treated him as her very own brother and not a bastard brother. Perhaps, he should have hated her for her parentage or any number of other reasons but all he could do was love her. She was his family and she wanted to be his family and was it not a family of his own that he had always wanted.

He had been a bit sad that they must live apart but he had understood the realities of the world prevented it. She had often ridden out to meet him, at times even couple of days a week. She had been the only family that he had known till now. Now, his grandfather had accepted him as well and he will soon be a proper Dustin - part of a larger family.

"No, no, don't thank me just yet. Those who have lain on bed of lords know that it is laden with thorns as it is with petals. Rank does not confer privilege or give power, it imposes responsibility. We are just made small allowances so that we can carry out those responsibilities well.

"Our first and foremost responsibility as lord of the land is to the people of the land. Our responsibility to the people is to ensure their maximal merry with minimal fuss. I, however, dare say you must have a better understanding of the smallfolk than most noble lords could ever hope for in the entirety of their life and though it eases your task it also increases the burden - a burden I have utmost belief that you will bear well. Yet, we must ascertain this, no? Nearly all men can stand adversity but if you want to test a man's character give him power and now I have given it to you. Let's see if it makes you a better person or worse. Tell us Maester Landon, what ails my people?"

"With most men away on war, the recently ended winter had laid waste to majority of grain seeds in absence of proper care. The smallfolk do not have enough seeds to sow their fields, my lords." Maester Landon recounted dutifully.

Denys peered at Harry intently, his eyes cold and assessing. "Tell us young Harry, what will you have us do?"

Harry considered the problem at length. He was aware that it was a test of his potential, of his worth as a future lord. He was aware a slip may cost him the lordship. Still it was not the prospect of losing the lordship that had Harry so deep in thought but the desire to truly help his people. He wanted to do his best not as much to impress his lord as much to help his people.

"There must be enough grain seeds in the castle granary to sow the fields and then some." Harry put forth at last.

"So, you would have us distribute the castle grain seeds amongst the farmers." Denys struck sharp as a whip. He may be old and he may be sick but he was no fool. He had been a lord for over forty years and he knew his trade well.

"No, nothing so crude though it would have been a perfect solution in an ideal world. I understand it stands to ruin us and we must maintain ourselves if for no other reason than to serve as buffer between the people and truly hard times. I would have us loan the castle grain seeds to the farmers at an agreed upon interest rates to be paid back from their harvest. It will have the dual advantage of maintaining ourselves and keeping the farmers on their toes which they certainly won't be were they to come by these grain seeds with no impending repayment." Harry propounded further, his voice sure and steady.

"Then that is what we will do." Denys allowed after a couple of minutes of ponderous silence.

"There's more, if I may my lord."

"Go on. Speak up." Denys prompted, his eyes smouldering with curiosity.

"I say that we should no longer limit ourselves to just being passive benefactors rather become more involved in farming this season. I say that we initiate a number of projects at our own costs, projects that will increase the productivity of our fields manifold and thus the income of the farmers and _eventually ours_. See these projects as investments if you please and I have learnt that only through investments can we increase our wealth."

"I discern from your certitude that you have more than an inclination what these projects, _what these investments_ will be!"

"I do, my lord. Though I may be an autodidact, I am well read and well travelled. I have put down my plans on papers in detail. I had planned to present you with the plans and hoped that you would agree to implement these."

"Now, it appears you yourself can implement these. As much as I would like to see these plans of yours for myself, I fear I cannot. I have already overstepped my limits and my body protests as it descends in agony. Discuss your plans with Maester Landon and if he agrees than you have my agreement as well. You are dismissed."

Harry stood up, bowed low and walked to the door. He closed it behind him, the grunts of the pain of his lord falling silent.

It was couple of hours past sunrise and Maester Landon made his way to his lord's chambers to check if his lord was resting properly. He pushed opened the doors of his lord's chambers and stepped inside. He stopped abruptly his eyes lingering on the empty bed.

The voice of his lord broke him out of his stance. "I am here Maester Landon."

"I have not expected you to be awake and about at this hour, my lord," Maester Landon said pleasantly surprised as he walked in short hurried steps towards his lord in the chair by the window.

"Bethany paid me a visit early this morning." Denys said as way of explanation.

"Ah! Yes, young Bethany had had the entire castle in uproar since the sunrise. Why, just like yesterday today as well she wanted to ride out at first light off to Barrowton. Few guards ran interference. They told her that Harry had stayed, that he was here in the castle but she won't believe them. Bless Alyn! He had the good sense to fetch me. Only after I had personally escorted her to her brother's chambers where she saw him asleep did she calm down." Maester Landon related as he took his place by his lord's side.

"I expect that was when she paid me a visit. She repeatedly thanked me and was quite generous with her wet sloppy kisses. I have not seen her so happy in a long, long time." Denys had a glow about him, his face alight with content.

"Have you talked with Harry?"

"I have, my lord."

"And what do you make of his projects?"

"They are thorough, pioneering and wide ranging. They are truly ingenious. His projects involves a methodical distribution of water wheels along the wells and rivers to lift water to better irrigate our fields, improved designs of farming tools like ploughs that can turn soil better and faster, seed drill that can sow seeds at regular intervals and depths and new cropping patterns that will allow us to cultivate our fields year after year without leaving a part or all of it fallow. A culmination of all can accrue the yields by as much as seven to nine times."

"What will these cost our treasury?" Denys asked pointedly.

"With increased yields of which I am certain, no more than what we will not be able to earn back in taxes in six or seven years. Our projects will stay long after and so will our increased source of income." Maester Landon gently reassured.

Denys levelled a penetrating stare at his maester. "You firmly believe in Harry?"

"I do, my lord." Maester Landon affirmed.

"I can believe in your belief, Maester Landon. You have my permission to proceed!"

"Harry will be most happy to hear it as am I. He intends to ride out and be amidst the farmers himself to better explain the new tools and practices. I assure you, my lord, you will never come to regret it."

"I hope not. Now, tell me why is the courtyard so full today?" Denys asked as a cacophony of noises drifted up from the courtyard below.

"That too is the work of Harry, my lord," Maester Landon replied, "He had called for all men-at-arms bar those on guard duty to assemble in the yard for practice at swords and archery. He intends to make a routine of it."

"About time as well! They have been lax for far too long but where is he?"

Harry dressed in chainmail over layers of boiled leather entered the courtyard as if summoned by the words of Denys, Bethany by his side. Harry took to the centre while Bethany stayed by the corridor. Men chattered excitedly as Harry slowly turned on his spot eyeing all. His eyes rested on a hulking man leaning against a pillar chewing an apple.

"You're up," Harry gestured at him and called in a bold voice.

He let the half-chewed apple fall, joined Harry in the centre and drew his sword. Harry too followed.

The man raised his sword high and lunged with a pitched battle cry. Harry checked him mid-swing, the clang of steel echoing in the yard. Others cheered, Bethany loudest of all.

Denys closed his eyes and lay back in his chair letting all the noises wash over him as the courtyard came alive for the first time in more than half a decade.


	3. The Wheel Turns

The last four months had been the most hectic of his life. From the moment he left his bed early in the morning to the moment he returned back to its welcoming embrace, it appeared he always was busy - doing one thing or the other - hardly a moment to rest or to himself.

He had set lofty goals and now he needed to scale the heights to see it through. The trek was long and arduous exacting a high toll and he travailed day and night to reach the top side- never faltering - intimately familiar with the value of hard work and perseverance from early in his life.

Also, his path was not a path to be travelled alone and he was not arrogant enough to think otherwise. Leadership is not about doing everything yourself. The best leaders know they can't meet their goals alone – they need the right people doing the right thing. Leadership means delegating to the right people to get the job done right. And he was nothing if not an accomplished leader. He had spent almost his entire past life leading, initially reluctantly and later consciously and in this life too the people of Barrowton and beyond had begun to look up to him even before he had been called upon to become the heir presumptive. So, though now only a boy of sixteen this burden of leadership that he bore was not an unfamiliar one and he ably rose to tackle the challenge head on.

He had formed a council to help him realise the changes that he sought to bring about in the ways of the farmers. He had appointed the best blacksmith, the best carpenter, the most experienced farmer, the most travelled tax-collector of the land and a man who understood the minutia of the rivers that drained the lands to this council. These five were the best in their craft in all of the land ruled by House Dustin. He had refrained from reaching beyond the spread of the land under House Dustin. He had wanted to keep the sound of the churning wheels away from the ears of other noble houses for as long as he could. He was aware that he couldn't keep all these from other noble houses for forever and he didn't intend to but he wanted to experience the sweet fruits of his own labour for himself before others broke through.

The five assisted him and Maester Landon to hammer out the nuances of the project and then see it come to life, grow, mature and yield fruits. While the tax collector was a man of the Barrow Hall, others were small folk. They were hesitant to journey to and from Barrow Hall daily or stay in it for a longer period, so he himself had come down from the Barrow Hall. He had made his inn the headquarters of the council. It was here that they met, discussed and worked.

He was glad that he had made this choice. He was certain that the tranquillity with which they were able to work in the inn would had been hard pressed to imitate in the Barrow Hall. A wide gap lay between the small folk and the nobility that made the small folks skittish around their noble counterparts and all that they associated with them and they definitely associated Barrow Hall, the seat of House Dustin, with nobility. But him, he was a different story and he was infinitely glad for it. He was someone with whom they were familiar with. They lavished him with praise and respect because of his deeds and not his birth and so were also comfortable enough to talk freely with and around him. He knew that as and when he would truly become Lord Dustin, this would change but he hoped not too much.

While under the guidance of Harry, the adults planned and worked on farm tools and water wheels and cropping patterns, the young ones under the tutelage of Bethany, who persisted upon accompanying his older brother to the town every day, learnt to read and write. Harry had set aside a part of the inn for the young ones to learn to read and write. Education - it was another thing that he sought to change and he was happy that he had taken baby steps down that road as well but he didn't want to dip his fingers in too many pies lest he fail to properly taste any.

A set routine helped him tide through such busy times with relative ease. His day began at the crack of dawn. He would wake up, break his fast with his lord grandfather and sweetheart little sister, practice sword and archery with the men-at-arms, then ride out to Barrowton with Bethany where he would spend the rest of his day working on his projects and Bethany would tutor and play with other children, then ride back to Barrow Hall, take lessons from Lord Denys and Maester Landon for an hour, finish the day with a late dinner with the family and then go to sleep.

Bethany was brilliant with words and numbers and knew her courtesies well but Harry wanted her to learn to wield a weapon so as not to be completely vulnerable in troublesome times. She too had shared with him her desire to learn to fight many a times.

The world they lived in was not a kind world and especially so for a woman and he didn't want Bethany to be completely defenceless. In his past life women too wielded a wand and was at par with men but in this life it was entirely different. This vexed him greatly.

One day, he had shared his vexation with his lord grandfather. His face had split with a proud smile and he had looked at him with great fondness that had made him truly uncomfortable. Harry was not used to such acceptance from his grandfather yet. Denys loved Bethany very much and was content that there was another who loved her as much and would take care of her after he left this world. He had readily consented.

Harry had discussed with his grandfather and Maester Landon on the choice of blade for Bethany and they all had agreed upon knife. It was small and could be easily hidden on person and as such very easy to carry. It had the added advantage of unpredictability.

Harry had roped in Cole, a man in his early 30s with a head full of curly brown locks and old grey eyes to instruct Bethany. He had once been a sellsword and was proficient in knife fighting. Bethany had mightily liked the surprise. She too would now train daily with her master.

The men-at-arms had started Harry on axe fighting. It was tradition for Dustin men to be able to fight with an axe. It was a slow process but he was beginning to make some progress.

But it was his progress on the many aspects of his multi-pronged project that was brisk. The blacksmiths had forged enough farm tools for all the farmers of the land and the carpenters had bedecked the land with multitudes of water wheels. Harry himself had toured the villages to explain to the farmers the way to use the new farm tools and the water wheels. They were slow and cautious but also eager and hopeful.

The iron ploughs and seed drills and water wheels had helped the farmers to sow and water more land than ever before. In another month, the first harvest would be ready. Harry eagerly counted down the days.

During one of the late night lessons, Maester Landon raised the matter of holding court. "The pleadings pile up, my lord. A court must be held," Maester Landon said.

"And it will be. Harry here will hold the court," Denys said gesturing towards Harry.

Maester Landon nodded. "And when will it be, my lord?"

Denys turned towards Maester Landon. "Why are you asking me? He is to hold the court. He will give you the details. I'm an old man now. Let me spend rest of my days in peace."

Maester Landon faced Harry.

"A good leader leads the people from above them but a great leader leads the people from within them and it is greatness that I strive for. Send herald to all the reaches of the land. I will hold the court in Barrowton five days hence," Harry said.

"Wonderful," Denys clapped, "Now, let's dine."

Five days hence the town square of the Barrowton was packed with men, women and children. A lord holding court in open in a town was something that had never happened before and all flocked to see it.

Harry resplendent in shimmering yellow cloak wearing a brown velvet vest styled with the crossed axes and the crown of House Dustin was seated atop a high backed chair. Maester Landon stood dutifully beside him. Bethany was seated on the other side of Harry on another chair. Guards formed a perimeter around their lord.

Those who wished to be heard had been herded in a single file before their lord.

"Approach," Maester Landon started the proceedings.

An old man bent with age, dressed in patched rags was the first. "I an old man, my lord. I can no longer till the lands that my family had tilled for generations. None of my sons returned when they followed their liege few months past to war. I has no family. I can no longer support me and my wife. Help us, my lord."

Harry conferred with Maester Landon by his side. They talked for few moments in hushed voices.

"Our deepest condolences for the loss of your sons but know that they had not died in vain. They died fighting for a noble and just cause. For you have no sons to inherit your lands, this court has decided to divide your land equally between the farmers neighbouring your land and it will be their responsibility henceforth to support you and your wife. They will pay you a fixed amount every year as decided by this court. May you live the rest of your life happily!"

"Thank you, my lord."

"Next!" Maester Landon called.

"My lord, this man married me and we had a daughter and then he left me and married another woman. He now don't give me and my daughter any money. We has nowhere to live and nothing to eat, my lord. Help us, my lord," a woman holding her two year old daughter in her lap pleaded in a weak and broken voice.

Harry turned imperiously to the man standing few paces beside her, her supposedly husband.

"What say you?" he asked briskly.

"This woman is no wife of mine," the man said, pointing accusingly at the woman.

"All lies, my lord. He married me in front of weirdwood tree before the Old Gods and we had a daughter," the woman burst into tears holding her daughter aloft.

Harry turned back to the man. "Lies, my lord. This woman is a whore and I know her not."

The woman lunged at the man with a curdling cry but the man struck her midway and she fell to the floor hard cutting her lips. The cries of her daughter filled the air.

"You dare strike a woman," Harry said hotly.

"Mercy, my lord," the man immediately fell to his knees and bowed his head.

"You cannot escape the allegations made against you astride a wagon of lies. This is your last chance. Speak truth by yourself and I may be merciful," Harry said commandingly, "for I will send my men to ascertain the truth of the words spoken here today. If it were to come to that then there will be no mercy."

The grave words hung in the air as the assembled men and women looked at the kneeling man, waiting.

The man raised his head his brow marred with sweat and his eyes fearful. He parted his trembling lips. "She is my wife, my lord." He hung his head again. "Mercy, my lord, mercy."

"The man has confessed. The only reason that this man will be sparred for his lies is that there are women and children who depend on him. Since he is still the rightful husband of the woman and the father of the child, they are still his responsibility. This court orders the man to make suitable living arrangements for and pay half of his incomes to his first wife and daughter and he shall continue to pay till his death or the death of his wife," Harry pronounced the sentence, "Guards take the man away."

"Mercy, my lord. I can barely feed two. Mercy, my lo . . ." the words of the man faded as the guards dragged him away.

"Woman, step forth," Harry said gently.

"My lord," the woman bowed clumsily.

"I offer you a place in the kitchens of the Barrow Hall. Do you accept?"

The woman found her voice after a long silence. "I . . . . I do." She said after her mouth opened and closed a few times, no sound escaping her.

"Guards, escort her to the castle." He said as the crowd broke into a thunderous applause and wild cheering.

The justice of their new lord had won the heart of his people.

* * *

P.S. Any suggestions about pairing would be most welcome.

P.S.S. Sex is an inseparable part of Game of Thrones and as such I plan to include it in the story. Not full on smut but Harry will have a few amorous encounters here and there. What say you?


	4. Death and Hallows

Harry stirred in his bed as sunlight streamed through the open window into the room. He arched to look over his head to see who had opened the window. He smiled seeing his mother standing by the window but the next moment his smile fell and his face hardened.

"You certainly took your time. Sixteen long years. I had expected that our paths would cross sooner than this." He threw off his blankets and stood up, turning to face the woman.

"Whatever you mean, my son?" the woman turned away from the window, towards Harry.

Harry chuckled mockingly. "Tell me, do you take on the appearances of only those who had kissed your cold lips, Death."

"You wound your mother, my son?" The woman said as she started to walk towards him.

"Most treat you as someone unwelcome and some tolerate you as someone acceptable and rare few treat you as someone welcome but whoever you grace with your presence – the former, the middle or the latter – your presence always lacks warmth. Mother stands for love and love exists in life and life is cloaked in warmth but you are death and even here . . . in dream, your presence lacks warmth. It's cold and gripping."

"I thought that you would be happy to see me." The death dropped all pretences as she stopped few paces shy of him.

"I would have been had we met sixteen years ago."

"We would have but I didn't feel the need to. You were doing so well. Here, you were in a world entirely different than the previous and yet you hardly faltered, blending in seamlessly. What ever would you need me for?"

"I do not see how things have changed!"

"You indeed are doing superbly well. No, I'm here because it's time."

"Time for what?" Harry said, his voice betraying emotion for the first time since he had recognized her.

Death smiled thinly. "Time to reunite you with your old friend and ally, time to reunite you with your magic."

Harry smiled despite himself. He had arrived in this world without his wand or cloak. He had many a times tried to fashion himself a wand from the woods of various trees with various animals' parts as core. Each attempt had yielded a fancy piece of stick and no more. He had many a times tried to perform some simple spells, spells that he had been able to perform without wand in the past world. Each attempt had yielded a wasted hours and no more.

Even so he had always known that he was not without magic. He could feel the magic within himself, whirling and winding, eager to be set free. Now it shall be.

"I see that the prospect that you shall once again be able to use magic delights you and I'm glad for that but there is more.

Harry frowned.

"Once this world had been as rich in magic as your own previous world had been but some highly unsavoury acts of those gifted with it pushed the world to the brink of extinction and so to safeguard this world from its doom we pushed the magic to the farthest reaches of this world and with it the monsters that feed off it.

"The tales of long night and the undead." Harry said in a slow whisper, horror marring his features.

"The wights, the white walkers and above all the Night King. They all are real. You do not build a seven hundred feet high wall to ward off some wildling men.

"But what you need to know is as your magic will return so will theirs . . . . Death pressed on as Harry opened his mouth, smiling sadly . . . . . You need not say anything, my dear sweet Harry. Nobel as always. Offering to give up your magic so that these vile creatures do not return . . . . . . Harry clamped his mouth shut, blushing. . . . Only if it were that simple. Whether or not your magic returns their return is inevitable. Even now as we speak they stir in the distant frozen lands of Land of Always Winter. While as you grow strong in magic so will they, it will only speed up that is certain to happen. But you wielding your magic will be able to protect this world much better and after the death of the Night King lead it into a new dawn.

Harry groaned. "I have heard of the prophecy of the Prince that was promised. Please don't tell me that it's me."

Death chuckled at Harry's antics. "Don't worry my child. The prophecy doesn't refer to you. The burden to kill the Night King will be someone else to shoulder. All that you need to do is what you do best and are doing even now. Help those who need it but no one else will. Feed those who are hungry and clothe those who are cold and shelter those who are in open and treat those who are sick. Do your duty as a lord of the realm staying true to yourself and the rest will fall in place. And as and when you truly need me I will come to you.

"Let's not digress any more. Back to the topic, to once again wield your magic to the fullest you need to reunite the Deathly Hallows. The first hallow – the Resurrection Stone – is at the bottom of the lake in the Godswood of Winterfell. Retrieve it and you will be able to wield a part of your magic and no you will not need a wand for it.

"Why all this? And what about the rest?" Harry asked.

"As you will regain your magic so will the rest of the world and too much magic too fast can lead to unforeseen consequences, some which we won't want to come to pass. And as for the rest of the hollows, when it's time I will tell you. Don't worry you will not need to scour the length and breadth of the known world to find the hollows as you had to in the past world." Death reassured.

"But I do not have any reason to visit Winterfell."

"No, not yet but soon you will."

It took a moment but Harry understood what Death meant.

"When?"

"Now."

Harry hung his head sadly.

"It is time."

The dream faded and Harry woke up. He threw back the blankets, went to his windows and opened the shutters. The cold wind of early dawn whistled in an echo of his numbing thoughts. He stood there facing the grassy courtyard, his eyes distant and unseeing. The words of Death echoed in his head over and over.

Loud knocks on his door pulled him out of the swirling abyss.

"Come in."

It was Maester Landon. If he was surprised to see Harry awake, he said nothing. "It's your grandfather, my lord. He passed away in his sleep last night," he said, his voice heavy with grief.

It was as Death had told him few minutes past in his dream. A lone tear rolled down his cheeks. He gestured with his hand for Maester Landon to lead the way, unable to trust his voice not to break.

He solemnly nodded and started for the lord's chambers, Harry's leaden footsteps behind him.


	5. Lord Dustin

Harry would forever be grateful for the fact that Denys had accepted him as his own and had invited him into his home and made him his heir no matter the reasons and though he had known him for less than a year his death had still been difficult for him.

And Bethany, she had been beside herself ever since the death of her grandfather. It had been her grandfather who had raised her after war had robbed her of her father and soon after her mother too had committed suicide of grief and as such they had been very close and his death had utterly devastated her. Harry had been her sole solace in this maelstrom of grief.

After the deceased Lord Dustin had been laid to rest beside his ancestors in the chambered barrows beneath the Barrow Hall, Harry had bid Maester Landon send a raven to Winterfell with words of the death of his grandfather and of his march to swear his allegiance to his liege.

A couple of days later Harry left for Winterfell with Bethany and dozen other men. Lord Hardwood Stout, the lord of House Stout of Goldgrass, and his half a dozen men joined Harry and his men at the eastern gate of Barrowton.

After less than a week on road, they were in Winterfell.

Guards at gates had rushed to the castle with word of their arrival. Stable boys helped Harry and his men with their horses as they dismounted their rides.

"My lords," bowed a great stout keg of a man as he approached Harry and his men, "Lord Stark welcomes you to Winterfell."

Harry recognized him. He was Winterfell's master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel. There was another man beside him. He was Vayon Poole, Winterfell's steward.

"We are pleased to be here, Ser Rodrik," said Harry.

"The journey must have been long and tiring. Vayon here will show you to your chambers, my lords," Ser Rodrik said, "Lord Eddard has arranged for a feast and hopes that you and your men would join him in the great hall during supper."

"We would be most honored. And here's a boar that we hunted this morning and casks of summerwine from the cellars of Barrow Hall," Harry gestured as his men unloaded the items and servants of Winterfell carried those off into the castle kitchens.

"I am certain Lord Eddard will find these in excellent taste," said Ser Rodrik.

Harry's eyes flickered to the stables. Men were saddling horses and preparing the reins. "Is Lord Eddard riding out?"

"The guards have captured a deserter from the Night's Watch, my lord," clarified Ser Rodrik.

The penalty of desertion of Night's Watch was death and while King Robert had a headsman and so did the Targaryen kings before him, the way in the North was the older way. They hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. So, the Lord Stark rode to deliver the sentence.

"Then we will join our liege as he rides out," Harry said after a moment of careful consideration.

Ser Rodrik faltered at loss for words. "You must be tired after such a long ride. Surely you would prefer to rest, my lords."

"I was never meant to inherit any land or holdfast least of all a lordship and so sought to build myself a life across the Narrow Sea and as such I've spend most of my life away from Westeros. Though the blood of Lord Denys and his ancestors flows through my veins and I'm of the North, there's still much that I need to learn of the ways of the North and who better to learn from then Lord Paramount of the North himself . . . . . . Harry dropped to one knee as his eyes fell on Lord Eddard, who stood on castle steps listening to the words of Harry, his other men followed . . . . . I do hope that my lord considers me worthy enough to allow me to ride with him."

Ned had been aware that Lord Denys Dustin was old and ill and not long for the world and had no heirs to inherit the lands and the titles after him and it would be a while before his granddaughter was old enough to rule on her own. House Dustin was one of his chief banner man and the issue of succession that would arise on Lord Deny's death worried him greatly. So, when he had received the request from old lord for legitimization of his bastard grandson, he had been both relived and worried but had decided to trust the old lord to do right by his granddaughter and his lands and titles and penned to Robert for the legitimization of his bastard grandson.

Now seeing the modesty and tenacity of young lord, it seemed that the old lord had indeed chosen wisely.

"Rise," Ned gestured with his hand as he walked down the steps towards Harry, "I shall be most honored to have you riding with me, Lord Dustin."

"I've another request of my lord," Harry said quietly as he rose to his feet, "If it pleases my lord, I would also have my sister, Bethany, ride with us."

Ned was surprised. "A most unusual request, Lord Dustin."

"Will the winter be less harsh for her because she is a woman, my lord?" Harry said. "She should be ready for it same as us men. Also, she is my heir till such a time that I am wed and have an heir and I want someone just and able to look after the people and lands of Barrow Lands if I were to die. Ouch! - Bethany had walked up to him and hit him hard on his shoulder, her lips trembling and eyes glistening with unshed tears - Not that I intend to." He hugged her to his side, rubbing her shoulder in comfort.

"Don't you dare die," Bethany whispered brokenly into his brother's chest.

"I promise I will never leave you alone. Never!" Harry promised. While others thought that he was simply whispering words to comfort his sister for who could know of life and death he did know of life and death and his promise meant more than those of other men.

"I apologize for my sister, my lord. She fears that I too will leave her just as our grandfather had," Harry said.

"Your apologies are not necessary, Lord Dustin. I completely understand. She has lost a close family recently and she grieves. Perhaps, we should spare her more death this day," Ned said.

Harry turned to look at his sister who now looked completely composed and smiled melancholically. He then faced Ned again. "Death is bitter, certainly, but it is a part of life all the same just as winter is. We must learn to accept both. The sooner the better. If my lord permits I would still that she rides with us."

Ned nodded in approval, his opinion of young lord rising. North was a harsh land and bred harsh people. Unlike in south, it was not rare in the North for the lords to teach their daughters to fight and spar and to take them out on hunt and patrols.

He himself had two beautiful daughters with his lady wife whom he absolutely adored. Perhaps, he too will teach them to fight and take them out on hunts. But he feared that his lady wife won't have it. She was still a southron and understood little of the North. Regardless, he had come to love her all the same.

Sometimes, he would still feel weariness deep in his bones. All this was meant for his brother Brandon and not for him. It was he who was to wed Catelyn and rule the North as Lord of Winterfell. But the cup has been passed and he must drink from it.

After all had mounted, they rode out of the Winterfell to the hills.

Hours later the words of the deserter weighed heavy on Harry's mind as he traversed the halls of Winterfell towards his sister's chambers.

The deserter had said of the undead and though others had thought of his words as ramblings of a mad man, Harry had known differently. He remembered the words of Death. The words of the deserter made the threat of the undead all the more real.

Harry knocked at the open doors of his sister's chambers and stepped in.

Bethany was seated in front of mirror, a beauty attired in resplendent dress of yellow and furs of brown. Her face lit up with a smile as she saw her brother's reflection in the mirror.

"You're a beauty, my dear," Harry complimented as he stopped behind her sister.

Her smile faded a little. Harry felt his heart ache. Bethany had been a bit quiet ever since they had returned from the hills. Harry was tempted to think that it was because it was the first death that she had witnessed but he knew that it was something else.

"You did well today," said Harry. Bethany had kept her eyes open and not flinched when a single sure stroke of Lord Stark had chopped the head of the deserted clean off.

Bethany was no longer smiling.

"What is it, Beth? You know you can tell me anything," Harry gently prodded.

Bethany turned to face her brother.

"The words of the deserter," Bethany gently started.

"What of it?" Harry said feeling a sense of dread creeping up.

"You believe it," Bethany finished and the way she said it left no room for doubt that she was certain what the answer was.

Harry wanted nothing more than to lie but he knew it would be futile. She could always read him like no other and often he cherished it but in moments like this, he dreaded it.

"He spoke true," Harry allowed after a moment of silence, his voice weary and tired.

"I've heard the stories of the Long Night and the Others and always thought that they were just that- stories but now that I know that they are true I should probably feel afraid. But strangely I don't. I'm not afraid. And do you know why? Because I know that you will always be there to protect me," said Bethany, her words beguiling her age.

Harry's eyes swelled with tears at the words of her sister and he pulled her in a smothering hug. "And don't you dare forget that ever!"

Harry has never been more content since he had arrived in this world than in this moment as he held his sister in an embrace and let her words wash over him. He knew in that moment that he would eagerly face all horrors of this world just to see his sister safe and happy.

They let go of each other reluctantly and started for the Great Hall.

There was little of feast that they would remember later. Harry swore his allegiance to Lord Stark in the Great Hall before the feast and later joined the Stark family at the High Table with Bethany. Late into the feast when tables were cleared to make room for dancing, Harry astounded all when he started playing violin. It was a strange instrument unknown to all but all the same its mellifluous melody mesmerized all.

After many hours of feast and dance and music all retired to their chambers for the night.

Harry reluctantly laid down in his bed - restive – wishing he were somewhere else, somewhere in the godswood of Winterfell.


	6. The Resurrection Stone

Just to make sure there aren't any confusion about age:

Harry - 16

Bethany - 10

Robb/Jon - 8

* * *

Harry left his chambers at first light unable to sleep a wink whole past night. He had lain tossing and turning, too excited at the prospect of what awaited tomorrow to fall asleep. He had considered sneaking into the godswood in the hours of the night many a times but had refrained from it. Such a prospect was just too risky. If he were to be caught, too many questions would be asked – questions he may not be able to answer, questions he would rather avoid. So, he had lain in his bed, the softness of it giving him no comfort.

Harry walked through the godswood and stopped at the edge of the black pool beneath the great spread of the heart tree. The surface of the pool was unnaturally still and its depth forbiddingly dark. The look of it would had unsettled him had he not known what lay at its bottom – the Resurrection Stone but more importantly the first of three keys that would unlock his magic. After a final gaze at the pool, he started stripping. Dressed only in his smallclothes, he took a deep breath and plunged into the pool.

He tried to swim but could scarcely move his limbs. The limbs seem to have become leaden and listless. The breaths came shallow and laboured. Panic started to set in. Darkness seem to thicken and swirl. He started to lose consciousness struggling to keep his eyes open as he slowly became more and more still and his breaths more and more laboured. Few moments past and everything stilled and then the pool broke into a great whirlpool and the next moment Harry landed on his feet.

Harry scarcely managed to stay standing the sense of vertigo slowly fading. He doubled over both his hands on his knees as he heaved in great gulps of air. After his breaths had evened he took note of his surroundings. It was faintly lit. He was in what appeared to be a big bubble of air amidst the swirling currents of water at the bottom of the pool.

Then his gaze fell on a ring on his left hand that wasn't there before. His heart skipped a beat. Though it was different from how he had seen it in his previous life – perfectly fitting rather than large, masterfully crafted of gold rather than clumsily made and set with a heavy black stone now whole rather than cracked down the middle. But it was the symbol on it – a triangle representing the invisibility cloak, a vertical, straight line representing the Elder wand and a circle atop it representing the Resurrection Stone – the symbol of Deathly Hallows - that remained unaltered.

"You now have the first of my three Hallows," silken voice of Death affirmed the thoughts of Harry, "and with it a part of your magic."

Harry stood straight up. "What part?"

Death walked to front of him. "Resurrection Stone represents elements of life and death and though all of your magic will now be a little stronger it is those aspects of your magic that deal with life and death that would be the strongest. Magic that relates to plants and animals, healing, ghosts and souls, inferi and undead, but most importantly time.

Harry listened intrigued. "It is death that gives meaning to time. If death weren't a certainty as it is now and all were to live forever, no one would value time. They value time because it is not endless and will come to an end. But you, you are beyond life and death and as such beyond time."

"But what does it really mean?" Harry asked.

"You will know soon enough. All I ask of you is to be cautious. Times will from now rapidly change. Keep up with it. Do not let yourself become complacent," Death sounded a note of warning.

It unsettled Harry to hear of such words from Death itself and he was about to ask more but she had vanished.

There was a great rumbling and everything started to shake violently. There was a huge swoosh from above and Harry looked up. A naked man was approaching the bottom fast. Harry recognized him instantly, there was only one man so huge in all of Winterfell – Hodor.

The shaking increased and Harry was thrown off his feet.

He hit hard solid ground, his face buried in something wet, white and cold. It took him a moment to discern that it was snow. He pulled his cloak around him tighter as deep freezing cold chilled him to his bones. Cloak, he was baffled, he was fully dressed in layers of boiled leather and chain mail and thick furs. _But how?_ _Moments ago he had been in only his smallclothes._

He stood up. Unending expanses of vast wilderness buried under thick layers of snow met his eyes. He wondered where he was. Another gust of cold wind forced him once again to pull his cloak around him tighter and his eyes fell on the cloak. His heart skipped a beat. It was another hallow, his invisibility cloak soiled and sodden.

_When did he acquire the cloak? No wonder he was so cold? It was an invisibility cloak and not a winter cloak. He groaned._

A loud bang sounded from behind him and he turned swiftly. Someone had burst open a wooden door of an old cave. A young girl walked out in hurried steps pulling a two-wheeled wooden cart with a young boy atop it.

Loud screeches echoed out from the cave that deeply unsettled him. He had heard these screeches once before, in the cave with Dumbledore from where they had retrieved the fake locket of Slytherin, the screeches of undead.

Then another person stepped through – Hodor.

"Hold the door!" the girl shouted as she raced ahead with the boy atop the cart.

Hodor obeyed. He slammed the door shut and pushed his back to it to hold it in place, making no attempt to follow the two.

"Hold the door," the voice of the girl echoed again.

"Hold the door," and again.

Deep repeated thuds against the door from within filled the air. An axe cut through the door and rotten hands covered in drooping flesh poured through the gap trying to reach for Hodor.

"Hold the door," the voice of the girl echoed again and Hodor stayed put.

More chunks of wood were cut off and more hands poured through but Hodor stayed put.

When it became fully apparent to Harry that Hodor won't move and that his death was imminent, he burst into action. He wiggled his wrist to palm his wand and then he remembered that he didn't has his wand yet but to his immense surprise and relief, the Elder wand slipped into his hand with familiar ease.

He didn't stop to ponder over this turn of events and with a sharp crack vanished into thin air and with another crack appeared beside Hodor.

"Move, Hodor. I will deal with the undead," Harry gently prodded.

Hodor didn't budge or made any indication that he had heard Harry at all.

Hodor was muttering something under his breath. Harry stepped closer to hear it.

"Hod d door . . . . . . Hod d dor . . . and it dawned on him to his immense horror what the words sounded like. . . . Hodor.

Harry didn't even try to comprehend what was happening and instead prodded Hodor again. Still no response. There was more to it. Harry just knew it but what.

His frantic gaze then fell on Hodor's eyes. It was rolled back, the grey of it fully exposed. That's it.

Harry placed his wand against Hodor's temple. He could sense a connection with another. He sent bursts of raw magical power to severe the connection but the connection resisted. He strengthened his attempts and the resistance increased in tandem. Harry took a deep calming breadth and after a moment of absolute pause sent a sudden strong burst of raw magical energy and the connection severed.

Hodor returned to his self. He fumbled under another strong assault of the undead against the door but held on.

"Hodor," Harry gently prodded again.

Hodor turned to face Harry and after a fleeting moment of muddle nodded in recognition.

Harry sighed in relief. "Just hold on a little longer," he said as he took few quick steps away from the door to position himself better to face the horde of undead that would be upon them once Hodor let go.

Hodor nodded dutifully.

Harry stopped, looked at Hodor and nodded encouragingly. "On my cue, let go and run and stop for nothing. . . . Hodor nodded his understanding. . . . . Harry held his hand at his side, wand firmly in his grasp, ready to unleash his assault . . . . NOW."

Hodor let go and ran.

The door behind him was blown clean off its hinges and undead poured through in a never ending stream.

Harry raised the wand above his hand and a whip of roaring fire hot and blazing as an inferno danced at its tip. With a pitched cry, he brought it down onto the undead.

Harry shivered and greedily breath in air as his body broke through the surface of water, drenched and cold.

Someone had pulled him out of the pool.

Harry looked around. The old brooding trees of godswood of Winterfell filled his vision or so he hoped. He had had far too many surprises for one day and wasn't certain that he could handle any more.

"They are waiting for you at breakfast, my lord," a strong yet soft voice thick with northern accent cut short his musings.

Harry turned to face the man who had spoken.

It was Hodor, standing tall and confident dressed in a leather armour same as rest of the household guards of House Stark and a sword and a dagger hanging from his belt.

"My lord," Hodor prompted uncertainly.

If Harry had any doubt before that it indeed was Hodor who had spoken before it was no more. Before Harry could fully comprehend how a simpleminded man who had never spoken any other word but Hodor all his life was now proficient with words and why a man who worked in stables was dressed in armour and carried arms another voice sounded in the godswood as footsteps approached.

"Have you found my brother yet, Ser Wylis?" It was Bethany.

'_Ser Wylis' Harry echoed in his mind_.

* * *

P.S - In next chapter, Harry and Sirius meet.

P.P.S. - Sirius has been reborn as one of the established characters in the books (hint- the character has obsidian candles) Any guesses about his identity and parentage?

* * *

12/5/2020


	7. Reunited

**Shout out to BadReader. I've shortened the pondering of Harry and instead written more about Harry and Sirius_. There is a marker indicating new text._**

* * *

Many things that had happened in the depths of black pool made no sense to Harry and though he dutifully sat beside Lord Stark eating breakfast he wanted nothing more than some time to himself to think things through.

The jarring absence of the other two Deathly Hallows and the miraculous recovery of Hodor and the obliviousness of the Stark household regarding this grated on his nerves incessantly. Yet the tingle that he felt at the sight of the glittering gold ring set with a heavy black stone inlaid with the symbols of the Deathly Hallows on his left hand triumphed all feelings of dread and unease that reared their ugly heads.

After breakfast he left Bethany in company of Lady Stark and her Septa and made for his room as fast as he could without appearing impolite. He closed his eyes and tried to recall each and every thing that had happened after he had jumped in the black pool.

Things had become weird only after Hodor had jumped in the black pool. After the black pool he had found himself in a frozen wasteland which he was certain could only be beyond the wall.

Then there was the girl and the boy atop the cart that the girl was pulling behind her. They had appeared young, perhaps even younger than twenty name-days. But he had not been able to see their features clearly through the thick fog and heavy snowfall. Regardless, he could still make an educated guess as to their identity based on the simple fact that Hodor had been with them. One or both of them were most likely Starks. He would need to keep a close eye on Starks henceforth.

And then there had been Hodor himself. The girl had also called him Hodor. He remembered it clearly. And the other words of the girl – _'Hold the door'_ that had slurred together as _'Hod d door'_ or perhaps more accurately as _Hodor_ – the word that Hodor was mumbling under his breath, the only word that Hodor always uttered. This could not be a coincidence. There was something that connected the two but the specifics escaped him. There was also the mental connection that Hodor had shared with another. How did that mental connection fit in all this?

He tried to put the entire picture together but could think of no plausible explanation. Then he remembered the words of Death - words about time.

If somehow he had traveled through time to what could only be the future, then it would explain how he had had the other two Hallows and something of the incident itself as the incident had not yet happened.

Yet there was more. The descent of Hodor into simple mindedness and his miraculous recovery was possible only if there was someone else – someone like him- through whom the fibers of the past and the future were connected. It was through that person that the incident that would happen years later into the future was interwoven with years before into the past. And that person was most likely the one with whom Hodor had shared his mind. But the identity of that person escaped him.

All that he had garnered from the happenings of the hours before the breakfast left him with more questions than answers. He let out a deep sigh and slumped in his chair bonelessly, the inferences weighing on him heavily. _He indeed needed to be careful and could not afford to grow complacent._ All this would have been much easier with an ally by his side whom he could trust completely with all his secrets. Alas! There was no one.

His dark musings were interrupted by heavy knock on his bedroom doors.

Harry walked to the door and pulled it open.

Maester Luwin was at the door. "There is someone here to meet you, my lord."

Harry was surprised. "Who is it Maester Luwin?"

"Archmaester Marwyn from the Citadel of the Old Town, my lord."

Harry was even more surprised. Why an archmaester of the Citadel would travel all this way to meet him. "You are certain that it was me that he asked for and not Lord Stark." It made more sense for an archmaester of the Citadel to travel all this way to meet the Lord Paramount of the North then a lord of some minor northern house.

Maester Luwin too shared in his surprise. "So you do not know why he could be here to meet you, my lord?"

"No, I do not," Harry affirmed.

Maester Luwin let out a long sigh. "Nevertheless he is most insistent to meet you and regardless of his peculiar beliefs he is an archmaester of the Citadel and as such must not be denied his request as befitting his station."

"I will receive him here in my chambers," Harry said.

Maester Luwin nodded and left.

Harry absently sorted through his bed chamber and tried to recall everything that he had heard about Archmaester Marwyn.

Marwyn was renown throughout the seven kingdoms for his peculiar believes and was also known as Marwyn, the Mage but it was his field of expertise that interested Harry the most, namely higher mysteries or what one would call magic. Marwyn could be an interesting man to meet but the reason why he had sought him out evaded him.

Footsteps sounded behind Harry and he turned to face the man that had entered his room and stopped dead in his tracks.

The face of the man holding a Valyrian steel rod and wearing a maester's chain consisting of two dozen heavy chains wound together to stretch from neck to breast was of none other than his godfather of previous life - Sirius Black.

"Sirius," Harry said haltingly, his voice thick with emotions.

Marwyn blinked, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Harry."

The words from Sirius was all that Harry needed to hear and next moment he had thrown himself into his arms. "Oh! Sirius, it is really you."

Sirius laughed, his familiar bark like laughter filling the room, as he held onto Harry, "It is me, Harry. It is me."

* * *

Harry and Sirius sat down opposite each other, Harry still holding on to Sirius's hand to remind himself that Sirius indeed was here and not just a figment of his fantasy. "You're really here," Harry once again wondered aloud.

Sirius smiled reassuringly, "Indeed, I'm".

Harry chuckled nervously, the reality of the presence of his godfather in this world slowly sinking in. He thanked Death for this blessing for he could think of no one whom he would rather have by his side than his godfather in this world ripe with subterfuge and perfidy. Yet another part of his mind whispered treacherous thoughts.

Harry frowned, his voice tinged with suspicion. "Why now and not before?"

If Harry had thought that Sirius would be offended, he was grossly mistaken for Sirius laughed. "You're not naïve. Good. You may yet survive in this world not that I will have it otherwise. Oh! Harry, I didn't know of your existence all these years or else nothing could have kept me from you. Nothing. Even now I rode to Winterfell from White Harbor not to meet you Harry but newly ascended Lord Dustin and –look- who he is but my godson. How it buoys my heart."

Harry believed Sirius. He knew Sirius won't lie to him. But rest of his words confused him. "Why did you want to meet Lord Dustin?"

"Because the new Lord Dustin is my nephew. I'm bastard son of Denys Dustin, your grandfather. Four months past, he wrote a letter to me. The raven bore the letter to the Citadel but I was away on a trip to the Asshai. Some acolytes beholden to me had the letter shipped to me in Asshai via merchants.

"In the letter Denys revealed the truth about my parentage. He fathered me on a tavern wench who died in child birth. He ensured that I was taken care of during early years of my life and later arranged for me to train as a maester in the Citadel. He then wrote about the bastard of his son who he hoped to legitimize so that he can inherit the land and titles after his death in absence of any other heir. He hoped that I could come to Barrow lands and counsel his bastard grandson.

"So I sailed from Asshai to King's Landing and then took a ship bound for White Harbor. When my ship anchored in the lands of Manderlys, I learnt of the death of Lord Denys and ascension of his legitimized bastard to lordship and that he was on a trip to Winterfell. So, here I am. Only if I had known whom I would meet at the end of my journeys I would had made more haste."

Harry was smiling ear to ear, his heart drained of all worries. "I hope you're staying."

Sirius looked uncertain. "Of course, I'm. But it will not be easy. If the truth of our relationship were to be ousted then it will be nigh impossible for me to stay in Barrow Lands. Maesters are supposed to have no family allegiances. The citadel and other lords would not look favorably at this arrangement."

"Then no will know the truth of our relationship," Harry said resolutely.

"Still we would need some strong reason for me, an archmaester, to stay on as a maester of a minor house of the North . . . . . Sirius mused aloud. Few moments later his face lit up and he grinned conspiratorially . . . . But I may have just the thing. Tell me, how much do you know of Elissa Farman?"


	8. Tale of Elissa Farman

_**I have heavily edited the previous chapter and reposted it on 28/5. Read it before this.**_

* * *

Sirius and Harry and Ned Stark and Maester Luwin were all assembled in the solar of Lord Stark. Sirius had briefly explained to Harry who Elissa Farman was and how a woman born centuries ago was the key to Sirius staying with him. But to put the plan in motion they also needed to take Lord Stark into confidence. Besides, regardless of whom Sirius was here to meet with courtesy required that he meet with the Lord of the visiting castle too, especially Lord Paramount. So, here they were in the solar of Lord Stark.

"Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of the Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North and Warden of the North," Maester Luwin introduced his lord.

"Archmaester Marwyn of the Citadel of the Oldtown," Harry introduced Sirius.

"I bid you welcome to Winterfell Archmaester Marwyn of the Citadel. What brings you to Winterfell," Ned said.

"I journeyed North for patronage, my Lord," Sirius delved right into the heart of the matter.

"Patronage Archmaester Marwyn," Maester Luwin gently elicited.

"Perhaps, you may have heard the name Elissa Farman, my lord," Sirius said.

"Elissa Farman was a member of House Farman during the reign of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen," Maester Luwin provided, "Archmaester Gyldayn describes her as "sharp of wit and sharper of tongue." But it was her great love for sailing that immortalized her in pages of history. On her carrack, the Sun Chaser, along with the ships of grandsons of Lord Donnel Hightower, Ser Eustace's Lady Meredith and Ser Norman's Autumn Moon, they embarked upon a voyage across the Sunset Sea, as she had believed since childhood that undiscovered lands existed west of Westeros.

"When he returned to Oldtown on Lady Meredith, Eustace Hightower explained that they had sailed south by southwest years ago but lost Norman and his Autumn Moon to a storm. Elissa's crew towed Lady Meredith to three exotic islands, which she named Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya. Despite the protests of Eustace, Elissa continued westward on Sun Chaser and was never seen again."

"A most riveting tale. But what does it has to do with your visit to the North?" Ned asked.

"Everything, my lord," Sirius lightly said, "During my many visits to Essos, I have often traveled to Asshai to better understand the intricacies of Higher Mysteries and during my one of the travels to Asshai I happened upon the Sun Chaser, the carrack of Lady Elissa Farman. . . . . . . Sirius smiled at the incredulous looks of Lord Stark and Maester Luwin . . . . . . I know this may be difficult to believe, most of my words and works are, but they are true all the same. I have a journal that I fished out of the wrecks of the Sun Chaser. A journal that has weathered the test of time and is mostly intact. In this journal one of the crew members of the carrack writes in great detail about the entire journey from Westeros to all the way to Essos. She also writes of undiscovered lands rich with spices and silk. And I fully believe that the feat of Elissa and her crew can be replicated without much difficulty with the help of this journal."

There was absolute silence after Sirius had said his piece.

After a moment Lord Stark and Maester Luwin scooted closer and started conversing in hushed voices for a while.

Harry had believed Sirius immediately when he had told him about the Sun Chaser and the journal but that was because he knew Sirius but the two across him were a different story all together. Harry wondered if reputation of Sirius as an eccentric maester would lend credibility to his story or rob it of it. Either way he would know soon enough as the two had fallen silent and were staring at Sirius intently.

"Elissa Farman was from Westerlands and Hightowers were from the Reach. If you indeed have such a journal as you describe and it is patronage that you seek then why are you here," Ned asked. It appeared as if the two were willing to give Sirius the benefit of the doubt.

Sirius smiled benignly, "A most relevant question, my lord, but one easily answered. The crew member who maintained the journal who also happened to be a woman and the First Mate to Elissa Farman was a Dustin of Barrowlands."

"That still doesn't answer my question," Ned pressed on.

"While it is true that many vessels of House Farman and House Hightower sail the sea and none of House Dustin and I would perhaps be better served to seek patronage from the former houses than later but I would prefer the patronage of the latter than former. Mostly due to the fact that I am myself from the North. I am aware that maesters are not supposed to have allegiances but all maesters do. It is something that just happens. One does not easily forget the lands where one was born and raised.

"This voyage if successful and I'm certain that with the help of the journal it will be then it will bring great wealth and prosperity to the Kingdom and I would rather that that wealth and prosperity come to the North. The North is a land of honest and hardworking people and deserve to have more than just scorn of the rest of the Kingdoms. That's it. That's why I'm here."

Ned's features softened. "I understand your sentiments and thank you for your kind words, Archmaester Marwyn but that still gets us nowhere. How do you plan to embark on this voyage without ships?"

"I've met great many men during my travels many of whom owe me great favours," Sirius supplied as way of answer.

"Such favours that they would grant you ships to journey into the unknown," Maester Luwin asked skeptically.

"Aye," Sirius replied tersely.

"Very well! If you could arrange for ships then you certainly have my permission. But you will need more than just my permission to embark on this voyage," Ned said.

"No," Sirius said emphatically leaning forward, "Talk of this with no one else. Secrecy is of utmost importance to reap the benefits of this perilous voyage. Just being the first on this voyage and to the undiscovered lands rich with spices and silk will not be sufficient. We will also need to be the only one. Only through monopoly over the Sunset Sea can we hope to truly prosper."

"What you say is just not possible," Maester Luwin bobbed his head in disbelief.

"Which part?" Sirius patiently enquired.

"All of it," Maester Luwin answered bluntly.

"Humour me. Spell your disbelief one by one," Sirius prompted.

"Even if somehow we are able to keep the first voyage a secret, which too won't be easy, it would be outright impossible to keep the subsequent voyages a secret. Surely, you agree."

"I agree. But we only need to keep our first departure from the western shores a secret. Once we have set sail before others we will still have the advantage of the journal if others were to follow and we will beat them to the undiscovered lands and to Essos.

"After the success of our voyage, we will need the intervention of the king to forbid all from sailing the Sunset Sea but us."

Lord Stark and Maester Luwin looked at Sirius as if they were uncertain if they had heard his last words correctly but when Sirius said no more, Maester Luwin continued.

"Even if King Robert is a dear friend of Lord Stark, he won't grant us the monopoly. The other lords will not allow it," Maester Luwin uttered incredulously.

"Oh! But he will and no lord not even great Lord Tywin Lannister much less the oafish Lord Mace Tyrell or the old Lord Leyton Hightower will be able to keep him from it," Sirius said smirking.

"I know that what you say is impossible but somehow I also know that you will make it possible all the same," Lord Stark broke his silence at last.

"Indeed!" Sirius agreed, the smirk never leaving his face.

"Tell me," Ned said simply.

So, Sirius started. There were great many things to talk and the talks lasted for hours but by the end of it Lord Stark and Maester Luwin too shared in some of the beliefs of Archmaester Marwyn.


	9. Voyage into the Unknown

The sun had long set. Harry and his retinue had arrived back in Barrow Hall just this morning, Sirius a part of it. It had been decided that Sirius would travel to Barrowlands and stay with Harry under the pretext of studying herb lore and medicine all the while preparing for the voyage across the Sunset Sea. Lord Stark had even consented to fund a part of the voyage.

The day had been very hectic with Harry working through great many matters that had inexorably piled up in the in the absence of the lord of the lands.

All the lords of the North had sent their well wishes to the new Lord Dustin upon his ascension, House Ryswell and House Manderly being the most conspicuous. House Ryswell was conspicuous in its absence. The house of deceased Lady Dustin had, perhaps, not taken well to the ascension of a bastard of their daughter's husband and sent no letter. Harry hoped that they would come around in time.

And House Manderly was conspicuous in its alacrity. While the letters of other lords were nominal and perfunctory, the letter of Lord Manderly was warm and cordial. Denys Dustin had fostered at White Harbour with Wyman Manderly and two had become as close as brothers and had remained close till the end days of Denys. Wyman Manderly, now the Lord of House Manderly, was most accepting of the decision of his dearest friend and hoped to host the new lord in his castle in port city of the North.

This turn of events fit perfectly in the future designs that Harry and Sirius fostered. If House Manderly, the richest and the only house in the North with any strength at sea, could be convinced to be a part of their plans to sail the seas west of Westeros, it would greatly spur their plans on. Harry and Sirius planned to visit the Manderlys soon.

Sirius had left Harry with Maester Landon to maintain the ruse but he hadn't been idle either. He had written a letter to one of his merchant friends in Tyrosh, Moreo Tumitis, asking for ships.

Sirius had first met Moreo when he had been but a helping hand on a Summer Islander ship. He had been gravely injured during a pirate attack and would have perished if not for the healing of Sirius who had been aboard the same ship. The two had forged a strong friendship as Sirius cared for Moreo and the friendship had only grown stronger ever since.

Moreo had worked hard over the years and settled down in Tyrosh as a rich merchant with his own fleet of ten ships. Sirius often visited him during his visits to Essos and Moreo had often expressed his fascination with the Sunset Sea and what may lay beyond.

Sirius was certain that Moreo would assent to spare three ships for the voyage across the Sunset Sea.

Late into the night after all had supped, Harry dismissed Maester Landon for the day and sent for Sirius. There were so much that they had wanted to talk but had stayed their words on the road for the fear of wrong ears. Now, behind the safety of the walls of the lord's solar they talked freely.

Harry told him all about his life from about mundane to about magic. He fell silent as he finished with the story of his plunge into the Dark Lake, his gaze lingering on Sirius.

"If it is the undead that are the true enemies then so be it. We will face them and we will defeat them – together, side by side," Sirius pledged solemnly.

Harry had always known that Sirius won't abandon him but still hearing it aloud made it all the more real and lifted a weight off his chest that he hadn't known he had been carrying. He felt more at ease with a steadfast ally, friend and family by his side than he had ever since his arrival in this world.

Harry smiled brilliantly. "Oh! Sirius, it is only now that I have you by my side that I truly realise how much I had needed someone to stand by me and I could not have asked for someone better. Death had truly been considerate."

Sirius chuckled amusedly. "Only you Harry only you can say that Death had been truly considerate but then again you perhaps more than anyone truly know Death."

"Do I Sirius?" Harry asked equally amused, "Do I who can supposedly never die know more about Death than anyone else?"

"How irony abounds! You may not know Death but you certainly know her favour. You carry one of three most powerful magical artefacts in all of wizarding world across time and across worlds and will soon have the other two. But fret not. I, your roguishly handsome uncle, is not to be outshone so easily. I too have something, something not as cool as the Hallows of course but very rare and with great powers of its own. Brought to the citadel from Valyria a thousand years before the Doom, I give you Glass candles," Sirius finished dramatically with an exaggerated wave of his hand.

"What do these Glass candles do?" Harry asked, his eyes shining with curiosity.

"Historically they burned but they have not been reported to burn in recent memory. It is claimed that when the glass candles burn the sorcerers can see across mountains, seas and deserts, give men visions and dreams and communicate with one another half a world apart," Sirius relayed.

Harry raised an eyebrow, "So, it's all conjectures. No one alive knows for certain."

"As I said the candles have not been reported to burn in recent memory so no, no one alive knows for certain," Sirius mumbled sullenly, "But somehow I know that it will no longer be so. The glass candles will burn for you. Only if I had them. They are the properties of the Citadel and as such remains in the Citadel."

"Oh! Cheer up, Sirius. Where's the marauder in you?" Harry elicited, "The maesters of the Citadel are muggles and they would never be able to tell the original from the replica. Glass candles have lain idle long enough, it is now time to use them. Won't you agree?"

"Now why did I not think of that," Sirius groaned.

"You are getting rusty, old man," Harry chuckled.

The talks lasted late into the night as they conversed about anything and everything, glad to be reunited after so long.

That's how their days passed. In the day Harry would attend to his duties as lord and Sirius would prepare for the voyage across the Sunset Sea and in the night away from the prying eyes they would meet and talk.

Two weeks later, Maester Landon brought a letter to Harry as he was overseeing the last of harvests being stored in the castle granaries. The harvest had been even better than expected and castle granaries were fuller than it had ever been in recent memory. It was from Lord Manderly. A merchant from Tyrosh had arrived in White Harbour and sought a meeting with Lord Dustin and Archmaester Marwyn. He had identified himself as Ontor Tumitis, son of Moreo Tumitis.

Harry was most happy but when he shared this with Sirius, he found little joy in it. Ontor was no more than eight name days old and the fact that he was here instead of his father or some other trusted captain in his employ did not bode well.

Harry immediately wrote back to Lord Manderly of his thanks for hosting his guests and of their imminent arrival.

The next day Harry and Sirius with Bethany and six other men at arms rode for White Harbour. They rode swiftly and made it to the port city in good time.

Lord Manderly and his sons received Harry and Sirius and their men warmly upon their arrival. Such cordiality with a fellow northern house greatly joyed Harry and his men. But all joy turned to ashes after hearing the story that Ontor related.

His father had fallen ill and taking advantage of this weakness, the men who owed him money had sent men to kill him and his entire household. Gyllo Dirrin, the captain of the household guards, had held the men at bay allowing Ontor, Evelina, the house maid who had been Ontor's wet nurse, and her son Callum to escape. Gyllo had later joined the trio at the ports, wounded and bleeding but still alive.

They had boarded his father's ships and set sail for White Harbour having received Archmaester Marwyn's letter just the other day. They had been able to salvage only three of his father's ship as the assassins burnt down the others.

Ontor was willing to commit all three of his ships for the voyage in return for refuge. Harry and Sirius assured him that he will have a place at their table for as long as he liked regardless of whether he committed his ship to the voyage or not.

Ontor was most grateful but insisted to commit his ships to the voyage all the same. He considered this as something his father would have wanted. Harry and Sirius tried to talk him out of it but Ontor was most insistent and in the end they accepted.

Harry and Sirius later talked of the voyage with Lord Manderly. Lord Manderly was most roused and took to the idea like a moth to the flame. He had a great love for sea and was a sailor at heart and a voyage across the Sunset Sea to undiscovered lands greatly heartened him.

Lord Manderly conscripted his best shipwrights to construct three new ships for the voyage in the lands of House Dustin on the western shore itself. The three ships of Ontor was agreed upon as payment. Ontor's men and Lord Manderly's men would captain and crew the ships with Wendel Manderly, the second son of Lord Manderly, himself joining the voyage.

After months of labor, the ships were ready for the voyage. Harry had never been more thankful for the vast wilderness of the North. Endless expanses of emptiness had allowed them to keep the preparations for the voyage hidden.

Harry was here with only two of his most trusted men to see the three ships off on their voyage across the Sunset Sea. All supplies had been loaded and they were ready to set sail. Harry wished Sirius and Wendel success and good fortunes and after a warm hug the two boarded the ship.

Orders were shouted and men rushed to carry them out. Soon, the ships were adrift on the waters of the Sunset Sea on a voyage that would forever morph the fortunes of House Dustin and the rest of the world.


End file.
